


hands to myself.

by zenospenos



Series: "gifts" [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Biting, Bloodplay, Hair-pulling, Love Letters, M/M, Male Solo, Masturbation, Scratching, Switch!Zenos, Violent Makeout Sessions, Zenos yae Galvus's Battle Boner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29849739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenospenos/pseuds/zenospenos
Summary: Zenos yae Galvus spends one night alone with his friend, and he continues to plague his thoughts every moment after.
Relationships: Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Series: "gifts" [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181336
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	hands to myself.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vergiliaux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vergiliaux/gifts).



Their lips crash against each other in a delicate dance of dominance as limbs entangle and fight against each other, only the most primal of sounds coming from the two men as they wrestled on the floor. 

Moonlight poured in through the broken window above them, reflecting off of the larger man’s silken hair as he manages to pin down his opponent, his prey, his very best friend. Zenos growls, pinning Vergiliaux’s wrists to the sides of his head and diving in deep to cram his lips against the other man’s in a desperate attempt to let the spark inside of him ignite. 

Oh, how he has missed his friend so dearly, and oh how he will savor these precious few moments with him. 

His teeth sink into Vergiliaux’s bottom lip, tasting the blood that spilled into his mouth and kissing it away with a growl. How primal, how  _ utterly delicious  _ this was. How he wanted more, more,  _ more  _ of him until both of them broke. 

Their kiss is hot and heavy, and though Zenos pulls away for a few second to allow the Elezen below him to breathe, Vergiliaux’s open-mouthed pants are sealed over with a clash of lips and teeth and tongue. 

When the elezen wraps his fingers into his curtain of hair and tugs roughly, he  _ moans  _ into his mouth, releasing the grip on Vergiliaux’s wrists and pinning him down with his weight so that the slender man beneath him could pull his hair harder. And oh, does he oblige, gripping his head by the scalp and pulling him down onto his lips, shifting his weight until Zenos finds himself shoved into the ground, occipital grinding against the rough stone floor. 

Vergiliaux sits himself on top of the Garlean, and Zenos’ heart practically leaps out of his chest as the elezen leans down and licks a hot stripe across the peak of his skull, the nerves under his third eye lighting on fire at the sensation. He groans, fingers digging into the slender Elezen’s thighs, grinding his hips roughly against the other. 

“Beast,” Zenos mutters, breathless and flushed as he looks up at the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, “When can I see you again.” 

Vergiliaux shushes him, pressing his lips to his third eye again and swirling his tongue over the protrusion, causing the Garlean below him to growl helplessly. 

Both of them are hard, and he can feel the aching pressure as blood pools between his legs, the Elezen on top of him grinding down as he laves over his third eye again and again and again and again.. 

Zenos holds his beast’s face, squeezing his chin with calloused fingers and bitten-down nails, bringing him to meet his lips in a heated kiss, tumbling backwards until the Elezen was thrust again upon the ground, and Zenos could crawl back on top. 

This time, he uses all his strength to pin down the other man, and his mind swims with pleasurable thoughts as he kisses and bites and sucks marks into Vergiliaux’s skin. Both of them were bound to be marked ruthlessly by the other at the end of their little tryst, and yet Zenos had not a care in the world for the consequences. 

He would rip and tear and shred his beast to pieces if he could, relishing in the rush of blood that would spatter the ground and the taste of his essence upon his lips. This man, this  _ otherworldly  _ being was simply a creature of violence, his most favorite and first friend. 

There’s a piercing cry that’s torn from Vergiliaux’s throat as Zenos comes to tease the inside of his thighs, but his fingers don’t move anywhere besides gently running circles around the sensitive flesh. He could feel his gooseflesh, his sweat and tears rush through down his body, and when Zenos finally relents, moving down to unbuckle the other man’s belt and slip his fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers, the needy sounds of Vergiliaux’s pleasured cries seem to echo in his head for eternity. 

* * *

A week after their little excursion, they meet again, this time in the Yanxian countryside as Zenos surveyed the remains of Castrum Fluminis and gave his orders to repurpose it as a work camp for detained prisoners and unruly Aan. 

It’s boring work, but it must be done, and though he would much rather spend his time hunting down savages for his own twisted needs, the Empire demands much from him. 

And yet, through all of his hunts and fights and challenges, he finds himself sitting on his bed every night, staring blankly into his bedside candle’s flame, imagining the spark he felt from simply being near his beast, his friend, his enemy. 

He shakes off the thought, continuing his trek down the winding road, the heel of his boot digging into rough gravel and tightly-packed dirt. 

“How uncivilized these savages are,” His Pilus remarks, “Not even seeing fit to pave a road for their Crown Prince.” 

But Zenos doesn’t respond, his own mind swimming with visions of Vergiliaux. Perhaps the Pilus takes his silence as a warning, or perhaps he was only talking to himself. Either way, he doesn’t care, and simply continues down the path. 

* * *

  
  


Another week, and Zenos yae Galvus has returned to Gyr Abania for an important meeting regarding the Ananta and his strategy to keep the Resistance out of important areas regarding trade. The sunlight pours into the throne room, and yet despite the joyous anthem playing outside the hall, there is nothing pleasurable about the experience. 

Dozens of sycophants line up to pledge their allegiance, and yet the Crown Prince doesn’t even deign to give them a passing glance as he stares straight ahead, resting his temple against his armored knuckles. 

It seems to go on for hours, and yet all Zenos can think of during their inane prattle is the faint heat at the tips of his ears and nose, his mind wandering to how beautifully his friend moaned under his touch, his rough play… 

… Would Vergiliaux ever agree to see him again? 

He decides as the meeting drags on that he will write once again to his friend, requesting his presence at another abandoned house, in another desolate village. 

“My Lord, your approval?” A Centurion asks politely, and Zenos nods, unaware and uncaring of what he was actually agreeing to. 

When they leave, it’s nothing more than a change in scenery for him. All he thinks about is his friend, his enemy. And that is more enough to keep his mind occupied until morning. 

* * *

_ My friend,  _

_ It has been unabashedly boring since I have last seen you. Each day my thoughts are consumed by your tempering nature, and I have decided that I will have to see you again to quell this ache in my chest.  _

_ I have no time to wax poetry about you. Do forgive me for being so blunt.  _

_ You will meet me at the base of Abalathia’s Skull in the Gyr Abanian Lochs, coordinates X: 29, Y: 10. I will arrive there at sundown, and I will expect you half a bell later.  _

  
  
  


Is there anything else he could add? Zenos pressed the end of his pen into his mouth, biting down gently as if to stimulate his thoughts. Surely Vergiliaux would get the message without a great love letter being sent to him. 

He ponders for a moment before putting pen to parchment once again. 

  
  


_ We cannot continue these excursions, and though I would very much like to, you and I have a duty. So it is for that reason that I will personally invite you to the Royal Palace of Ala Mhigo for a Royal Hunt, that I might taste your sweet, sweet aether upon my flesh once again.  _

  
  


No, Zenos thinks, grabbing his pot of white parchment paint and blotting out the paragraph, ink still drying. His friend would not appreciate politics in a love letter, if one could even call it that. 

He grunts, the faint scratch of the tip of his pen upon the paper ringing inside his ears and making the back of his throat itch. 

  
  


_ As always, burn this letter as soon as you read it. I would not have you be seen as a traitor this early into the game. Perhaps later, when you are at my doorstep, and my claws are sharpened as I wait for your arrival at the foot of my throne.  _

_ I look forward to seeing you, Vergiliaux Renata. I only hope that you receive the same carnal pleasures as I do.  _

_ Nos sumus manus, nos sumus deus, _

_ Zenos yae Galvus _

_ Legatus of the XIIth Imperial Legion _

_ Crown Prince of Garlemald _

_ Acting Viceroy of Ala Mhigo _

_ Doma’s Executioner _

  
  


He sits back to examine his work, reading over the writing again and again and again until he spots the signature at the bottom. He frowns, grabbing his pot and paint brush once again and paints over his name, blowing gently on the parchment and watching it dry. It is there that he writes carefully, hands trained and still, signing a more informal signature, one he has never written onto a letter in his twenty-and-six summers. 

  
  
  


_ I look forward to seeing you, Vergiliaux.  _

  
  


_ Your friend,  _

_   
_ _ Zenos _

  
  
  


* * *

It is yet another day in Ala Mhigo, and Zenos sits in his room staring at the wall adjacent to his bed. 

Vergiliaux occupies his thoughts as always, and Zenos finds himself flopping down on his bed, a faint rouge tinting his cheeks as he thinks of the other man’s hands on him, scratching down his muscles, his teeth biting down on the skin of his throat.. 

His hand slips idly under his trousers, unbuckling his belt and tossing it to the side without care. It’s there that he quickly slides down his smallclothes from his waist and reveals his half-hard length, flushed and twitching as the cool air envelopes his aching length. 

Zenos moans, eyes fluttering shut as his breath hitches in his throat and his hand pumps up and down his cock, easing it to full hardness. 

_ Vergiliaux..  _ What a sweet name, and how beautiful he would look between his legs, mouth wrapped around his cock like his hand was now, bobbing up and down, the cleft gently beating against the top of his mouth.. 

What a beautiful sight indeed. 

Zenos moans audibly now, squeezing his cock on the uptick and thumbing over his slit, using his other hand to gently cup his balls and move down, down until his finger traces the puckered ring of muscle beneath his cock. 

_ Vergiliaux’s tongue, licking, sucking,  _ biting  _ him, his slender fingers prodding at his ass and teasing his cock.. Oh so gently pressing inwards --  _

Zenos gasps at the sensation, pressing his finger inside as he pumps at his shaft, imagining Vergiliaux’s fingers, his tongue, his  _ cock  _ inside him, thrusting in and out and in and out. 

The slick sounds of his precum coating his palm fills the room as he relaxes his wrist, almost teasingly stroking his cock as he imagines the viscous fluid as Vergiliaux’s saliva. Zenos throws his head back at the thought, viciously pumping his shaft as he pushes his finger inside of him more and more.

He nearly tips over the edge the moment his finger probes at the sensitive spot inside of him, and he has to bite his lip to muffle the cry that would have otherwise spilled through his lips in a wail of pleasure. 

Zenos fucks his hand faster and faster, lights flashing behind his eyes as they squeeze shut from the stimulation, imagining his friend touching him, scratching him, using him however he pleased until the both of them were broken and bleeding on the floor of the abandoned hut, the eternal ecstasy burning in their veins every time they touched..

He spills his seed onto his hand once he rides over that edge, his mind still hazy with the thought of Vergiliaux letting him come after he would make him beg for so long.. So long indeed…

Absentmindedly, he takes his hand to his mouth and kisses the seed from his own flesh, removing the finger from inside him and once again staring up at the ceiling. 

Soon, he would see his friend again. 

  
  


Soon, he would experience the highest pleasures life could give. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Soon, he would feel alive. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for supporting me, Vergil! 
> 
> Comments are appreciated :)


End file.
